


Both

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Joly didn’t notice the man who sat down at his table one day until the man said cheerfully, “You too, huh?”Joly blinked over the top of his anatomy text book. “Excuse me?” he said, more startled than anything.The man, who was almost entirely bald, winked at him. “You’re excused,” he said with a grin. “But I was referring to your reason for frequenting this fine establishment.”“It’s close to the hospital, and I’m a med student—”The man waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure, and it’s just around the corner from the law library. But don’t pretend like you’re not also here so that you can ooh and ahh over the lovely barista, Musichetta.”--Or, the story of how Joly went to the coffeeshop for coffee, stayed for the barista, and found more than he could've ever hoped for along the way.
Relationships: Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Joly/Bossuet Laigle, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Joly/Musichetta
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	Both

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Akallabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/gifts).



> For the [Bishop Myriel Fundraiser](https://bishopmyrielfundraiser.tumblr.com). [@akallabeth-joie](https://akallabeth-joie.tumblr.com/) requested, "JBM getting together, and somehow a game of rock paper scissors is involved."
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Joly checked his watch and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he still had twenty minutes before he had to be at the hospital for his rotation. Plenty of time for a coffee, which he desperately needed if he was going to make it through his first pediatrics shift. **  
**

He opened the door the coffee shop just down the street from the hospital and gave his order to the barista before making his way down to the pickup area. He had just started scrolling through his phone when a sweet-sounding voice called, “Cinnamon latte with soy milk for Jolly?”

“It’s Joly,” Joly said automatically, reaching out for the cup when his hand brushed against the barista’s, and he looked up at her, his eyes widening when he saw that the hand, and the voice, belonged to a remarkably beautiful woman, her dark eyes shining as she smiled at Joly.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “I’ll remember for next time.”

“Uh,” Joly said, particularly eloquent. “Right. Next time.”

Her smile widened, just slightly, and she ducked her head before going back to make the next drink, and Joly stared at her for a long moment before blurting, “What’s your name?”

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Not because he didn’t want to know her name, but because he didn’t want to be _that_ guy, hitting on someone at work when they had no means of escape.

So he did the only thing he could think of in his panic: word vomiting in a desperate attempt to walk it back. “I mean, uh,” he started, his eyes wide, “you don’t have to tell me that, not if you don’t want to. I really wasn’t trying to hit on you at work or anything, or at least, well, it wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable, and, uh, consent is, you know, a two-way street, and just be by being an employee here, you inherently aren’t in a position to consent, and—”

“It’s Musichetta,” the barista interrupted, still smiling and now looking distinctly amused.

Joly blinked. “What is?” he asked stupidly.

“My name,” Musichetta told him patiently, tucking a dark curl behind her ear. “It’s Musichetta.”

“Musichetta,” Joly repeated, his face now burning red. “Right. Well. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later.”

He retreated with his coffee before he could somehow make an even bigger fool of himself, vowing never to return to the coffeeshop, no matter how conveniently located it might be.

* * *

He didn’t even make it a week.

Thankfully, on his second attempt at ordering a coffee like a regular person, Joly had mostly succeeded, and had even earned an extra-wide smile from Musichetta, topped off with a wink when she called his name correctly. “Told you I’d remember,” she told him, and Joly knew he was well and truly sunk.

It became a weekly habit, and then a bi-weekly habit, and before long, Joly was stopping by the coffeeshop every time he had a shift at the hospital (and, occasionally, when he didn’t). He started arriving earlier, too, so that he could sit in the coffeeshop and try not to be as creepy as he sometimes felt.

Which meant he spent a lot of time buried in his books to give him something to do instead of just staring dreamily at Musichetta, which was also how he didn’t notice the man who sat down at his table one day until the man said cheerfully, “You too, huh?”

Joly blinked over the top of his anatomy text book. “Excuse me?” he said, more startled than anything.

The man, who was almost entirely bald, winked at him. “You’re excused,” he said with a grin. “But I was referring to your reason for frequenting this fine establishment.”

“It’s close to the hospital, and I’m a med student—”

The man waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure, and it’s just around the corner from the law library. But don’t pretend like you’re not also here so that you can ooh and ahh over the lovely barista, Musichetta.”

Joly felt himself blush. “That’s not– I mean, I’m not–”

“Sure you’re not,” the man said genially, holding his hand out for Joly to shake. “I’m Lesgle, by the way, though my friends call me L’aigle or Bossuet.”

Joly cocked his head slightly. “Do I want to know the story behind either of those?”

Bossuet’s grin widened. “Probably not,” he said. “Anyway, I just figured it was time I introduced myself before this whole thing becomes a problem.”

He gestured vaguely between them and Joly stared at him. “What whole thing?” he asked, suspicious.

“What, you think you’re the only one working up the nerve to ask Musichetta out?” Bossuet asked with a grin. “Of course, you’ve got a better chance than I do, no doubt about that—” At Joly’s raised eyebrow, Bossuet sighed and added, “I’ve got terrible luck. That’s why I haven’t asked sooner.” He made a face. “Well, that and the inherent power imbalance that comes from asking out someone when they’re at work and can’t readily leave.”

Despite himself, Joly smiled slightly. “I had the same exact thought,” he said. His smile faded when he glanced over at Musichetta, who was handing a coffee to a customer and smiling that same smile that made his stomach do somersaults. He looked back at Bossuet. “So what are we going to do about it?”

Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “But I figured we might as well hang out with each other while we figure it out.”

Joly laughed. “Deal,” he said, clinking his coffee cup against Bossuet’s.

* * *

Just like that, a new routine was born. They started hanging out at the coffeeshop whenever both of them were in there, and then Bossuet asked Joly if he wanted to take their coffee to the library, where the seats were more comfortable and the power outlets more plentiful (Bossuet always seemed to pick the seat in the coffeeshop that wasn’t by any open power outlet).

Then Joly asked Bossuet if he wanted to come back to his for Chinese food. Or to watch a movie. Or because Joly had just scored an ounce of really good weed and needed someone to share it with.

It was during one of these times that Joly realized that, despite their hanging out ostensibly to figure out how to ask Musichetta out, they were instead spending a lot of time with each other.

And Joly liked spending time with Bossuet.

He really liked it.

He really liked him.

Joly was well aware that he was bisexual, but he had no clue if Bossuet was, or if he was misinterpreting what had quickly become one of Joly’s best friendships, and the very last thing he wanted to do was ruin that, especially since there was still a very attractive barista in the hypothetical mix.

“Earth to Joly,” Bossuet said, his voice low in Joly’s ear, and Joly jumped before looking over at Bossuet sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” he said, suddenly aware that they were sitting far closer on Joly’s couch than was even remotely necessary. 

“I could practically hear you thinking,” Bossuet told him before lifting his phone and showing Joly the food delivery app he had open. “And to repeat my question that you completely ignored as you were staring off into space, do you want Chinese or sushi?”

Joly blinked. “Both,” he said, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. It wasn’t actually an answer to Bossuet’s question, but was what he had just figured out for himself.

He wanted them both.

And he definitely wasn’t talking about what food he wanted to eat that evening.

Bossuet shook his head, looking back down at his phone. “Fine, but then I don’t want to hear you complaining that you’re so full an hour from now—”

Joly cut him off by kissing him, and Bossuet’s phone fell to the floor with a clatter, food delivery very quickly forgotten.

* * *

The next day, Joly waited nervously, sitting at the bar of the coffeeshop and fiddling with the lid of his coffee cup. Bossuet had left early that morning, muttering something about an early lecture he had to attend, which meant they hadn’t had a chance to talk about...well, about any of it.

He perked up when he saw Bossuet come through the door, though he shrank down in his seat slightly when Bossuet made a beeline for him, a determined look on his face. “Right,” he said decisively, sitting on the stool next to Joly. “We’re ending this.”

Joly blanched. “Ending?” he repeated weakly, and Bossuet shook his head.

“No, I don’t mean—” He broke off, and gave Joly a smile before reaching out and squeezing his hand gently. “I just mean that we have to decide, one way or another. So we’re gonna do it the old fashioned way.”

He slid his hand away from Joly’s and instead closed it into a fist, holding it out to Joly expectantly. Joly just stared down at his fist. “What am I supposed to do with that?” he asked blankly.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

Joly couldn’t help himself – he laughed. “What are we, six?”

But Bossuet didn’t smile. “Take it or leave it,” he said seriously.

Joly held out his fist as well but hesitated. “Hang on,” he said, “what exactly are the stakes here? What are we playing for?”

Bossuet shrugged. “Winner gets to decide if they want to ask out Musichetta, or if they want to ask out…” 

He trailed off, but Joly got the picture, and he suddenly felt very tongue-tied. He looked down at his fist for a moment before nodding. “Ok then,” he said. “Rock, paper, scissors. Let’s do it.”

In unison, they both muttered, “Rock, paper, scissors—” but Bossuet flattened his hand on ‘scissors’, while Joly’s made his hand into scissors a beat later.

Bossuet’s hand fell to his side. “What are you doing?” he asked, exasperated.

“It’s rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Joly said defensively. 

“No it’s not,” Bossuet shot back. “You throw on scissors, everyone knows that.”

Joly glared at him. “What backwards ass place taught you that?” he huffed. “It’s clearly—”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Bossuet sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll do it again, and this time, we’ll both go on ‘shoot’, ok?”

Joly nodded and again they squared up, fists outstretched. “Rock, paper, scissors—”

This time, Joly kept his fist closed, while Bossuet made his hand into the scissors motion. He scowled, but before Joly could even begin to gloat, or at least claim victory, out of nowhere, a hand reached out and covered both of theirs. “Paper beats rock,” Musichetta said, and both men swiveled to stare at her.

“So it does,” Joly managed, and Bossuet added, probably unnecessarily, “Looks like you win.”

Musichetta propped her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her hand as she examined them both. “So based on what I overheard, winner gets to decide who to date, right?” she asked, her smile sharpening as Joly spluttered on his coffee and Bossuet’s mouth opened and closed silently as he gaped at her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said brightly, straightening. “And in that case, I pick both of you.”

“What?” Bossuet asked weakly, at the same time Joly croaked, “Both?”

“Yes,” Musichetta said, leaning in to kiss first Joly and then Bossuet on the cheek. “Both. Pick me up when I get off work at six?”

Bossuet and Joly glanced at each other, a slow smile crossing both their faces. “Deal,” they said in unison.

Musichetta grinned at them as she turned back to work, and Joly glanced at Bossuet once more. “So what do you want to do until 6?” he asked.

Bossuet grinned and held out his hand. “Your place or mine?” he asked simply.

Joly thought about it. “Part of me wants to say both, just to be an ass,” he said, grinning when Bossuet groaned. “So how about this instead – either.”

“Now that I can work with,” Bossuet said, tugging him to his feet. “Let’s go.”


End file.
